Bad Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy 1)

But, nope. Courtney doesn’t push back. In fact, she does exactly what I’m expecting: she crumples, right before my eyes. “Sorry to... ,” she murmurs, before scooping up her flash drive and sprinting away, tears pooling in her eyes.

“Jesus, Reed,” Josh says. “That was a bit much.”

“No, it wasn’t.” I pick up a mystery drink and take a long sip. “An Old Fashioned. Nice.”

“Seriously, man. That was brutal.”

“Yeah, well, tough shit. I can’t go anywhere these days without someone trying to convince me they’re the next Adele, Beyoncé, Laila, or Aloha. Or, if they’re in a band, then they’re the next Red Card Riot or 22 Goats. And guess what? They never are. Can I afford to waste five minutes, now and again, pretending to give a shit when someone approaches me with stars in their eyes? Maybe, though I wouldn’t be happy about it. But, Josh, this shit happens ten times a day, every day. Am I supposed to waste a full hour out of every twenty-four on this shit? I bet even your mother-in-law, the nicest person I know, would tell me I’m well within my rights to shut this kind of shit down.”

Josh sips a martini. “I strongly doubt my mother-in-law would be okay with you telling a young college student with stars in her eyes to fuck off.”

My stomach clenches. “Okay, well. Maybe that one thing was a bit harsh. Do me a favor and don’t tell your mother-in-law I said that, okay?”

Josh laughs. “Look, I get it. I can’t imagine how annoying it would be to get bombarded like that all the time. I’m just saying there are other ways to say what you did that aren’t going to scar the kid for life.”

“If me telling her to fuck off scars her for life, then she shouldn’t even think of trying to make it in music.”

Josh sighs. “Whatever. Don’t mind me. I fully admit I’ve turned into a huge softie these days. You should see how Gracie has me wrapped around her little finger. If Little G cries a single tear, I’m wrecked. Kat’s gotta play bad cop with her all the time, because I’m too big a pussy to do it.” He chuckles. “That kid is so damned cute. Same with Jack.”

I take a sip of my drink, and say nothing. Truthfully, I don’t think I’m that different from Josh. Tears wreck me, too, but only when they’re shed by someone I love, not a stranger in a bar. For fuck’s sake, I’ve spent my entire life wiping my mother’s tears, and where is she now? In Scarsdale, in the finest mental facility money can buy, painting with outrageously expensive paints I’ve imported for her from France. And all of it, to keep her tears away.

And when my baby sister got her heart smashed by her teenage love, and her tears wouldn’t stop flowing, what did I do? Well, right after threatening to kill the bastard who broke her heart, I packed my sister off to the best college money could buy, three thousand miles away from the guy she couldn’t seem to break away from on her own. All to keep her tears away.

And when my housekeeper, Amalia, cried for the first and only time in my presence—when that sweet woman broke down four years ago at my kitchen table and confessed her brother needed surgery and couldn’t afford it and she was terrified of losing him—I not only wound up paying for the brother’s four surgeries, I paid off his apartment lease for two years, too. All to keep sweet Amalia’s tears away.

But some random chick in a bar cries because, waah, waah, the music industry is so hard? Because she’s got a dream and I’m not rolling out the red carpet for her? Yeah, well, fuck her. I had a dream, too. And I mortgaged my soul, heart, blood, sweat, and tears to make my dream happen. I hustled and scrambled. And, yeah, I lied, too, on occasion, whenever truly necessary. But, most of all, I never gave up, no matter how many people told me I was crazy. No matter how many people said making money in music was impossible these days, thanks to streaming and illegal downloading and the new “singles instead of albums” culture. And now, here I am, laughing at all the naysayers, all the way to the bank.

Suddenly, I’m pinged with the thought of how supportive and awesome Josh and Henn have always been, which, of course, makes me curious about Henn’s whereabouts through all this. I turn around and spot him at the pool table, happily playing a game of partners pool with three strangers. It’s so fucking Henn, I can’t help smiling about it.

“Come on,” I say to Josh. “Grab as many of these drinks as you can carry, and let’s shoot some pool. I’m in the mood to kick some ass.”